


Scabs and Scars

by Reioka



Series: Girl Next Door [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kid Fic, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Scott were eleven when Addie came back from school one day, gushing about a guy from one of her classes. He was handsome and funny and kind, and he seemed interested in her. She giggled and flushed when Melissa and Ivan pressed for more information, but she didn’t have much to give, because they only talked for a few minutes after their classes this week, but he mentioned coffee sometime.</p><p>Stiles and Scott were old enough to know that it would be rude to fake throwing up at her, but they thought about doing it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scabs and Scars

**Author's Note:**

> There's some mentions of a possibly abusive relationship and stalkery stuff, but it's mostly pretty vague. Also this story moves quickly, but the passage of time is about eight to ten months, give or take a week.

Scabs and Scars

 

Stiles and Scott were eleven when Addie came back from school one day, gushing about a guy from one of her classes. He was _handsome_ and _funny_ and _kind,_ and he seemed interested in her. She giggled and flushed when Melissa and Ivan pressed for more information, but she didn’t have much to give, because they only talked for a few minutes after their classes this week, but he mentioned coffee sometime.

 

Stiles and Scott were old enough to know that it would be rude to fake throwing up at her, but they thought about doing it anyway.

 

Addie had only had a few dates in high school, and she hadn’t mentioned anyone since she’d started at the community college, so they knew that they couldn’t begrudge her that. Stiles was in love with Lydia, after all, and Scott had had a few crushes. Besides, Addie deserved someone who saw how awesome she was.

 

It was a little annoying when Addie started spending less time with them, though. She’d take the Anderson’s sedan and go to meet him, and come back flushed and giggling. Sometimes she squealed about how well her dates went. Scott asked her when they got to meet him, but she’d just shrugged, because he was older and had a job on top of going to school, so he didn’t have a lot of spare time—he only just managed to find free time to spend with her.

 

It started more gushing about how sweet he was. Stiles gave Scott a filthy look even though it was clear that Scott already regretted asking.

 

.-.-.-.

 

So it came as kind of a shock when a subdued Addie came over after her classes let out, wringing her hands nervously as she bypassed Stiles and Scott and approached Ivan instead.

 

“Um. Ted. Ted’s gotten really weird. He keeps asking me where I’m going and who I’m with, and then he thinks I’m lying to him. I told him I didn’t want to see him again because he was freaking me out. I was going to do it earlier, but I didn’t want class to be weird. And now that we’ve had our final in class, I finally broke up with him. And now he’s kind of. Um. Following me?”

 

Ivan looked up at her, jaw dropping a little. “What?”

 

“He’s kind of. Outside your house?” she whispered, grimacing. “Probably so he could watch my house without being suspicious? He didn’t know that I come over here all the time, I guess.”

 

Ivan slammed his hands on the table and stood with a little more force than was strictly necessary. He was glad that he was still wearing his uniform and paused to put on his gun holster before he continued out of the house.

 

Stiles and Scott rushed to the window and peeked through the curtains. Addie hesitated before letting out a quiet groan and scampering up behind them. She whistled. “Damn. Do all cops swagger like that?”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s just because this guy is in front of _his house._ ”

 

“I think I know why Mrs. Jenkins always speeds through school zones when your dad’s in the area,” she breathed, eyes wide. “Oh my God, he probably swaggers up to all the old ladies’ cars like that and they’re like ‘please make me pay more on my tickets _damn._ ’”

 

“The nurses call him Deputy Sabroso,” Scott told them, shrugging. When they both turned to blink at him, he frowned. “You know. Tasty? Yummy?”

 

“Your mom calls my dad ‘yummy?!’” Stiles gasped, eyes wide.

 

Scott rolled his eyes and sighed. “ _All_ of the nurses do.”

 

They turned their attention back to Ivan at that, because thinking about all the ladies hot for his dad clearly made Stiles uncomfortable. He knocked on the window, smiling one of the meanest smiles they’d ever seen as his hand dropped down on his gun holster.

 

The car burst into life and screeched away from the curb.

 

“Your dad is _awesome,_ ” Scott whispered reverently.

 

Ivan watched the car screech around the corner, then turned to walk back into the house. Addie, Stiles, and Scott yelped and scrambled for the couch, flopping onto it just as the door opened again.

 

Ivan shut the door and walked back toward the kitchen. “If you’re trying at casual, you’re failing. You left your grubby nose prints on the window,” he told them as he passed, ruffling the boys’ hair and clapping Addie on the shoulder. “Tell me if he comes by again, and if he keeps harassing you, I’ll help you file a restraining order.”

 

“Okay,” she answered quietly, nodding.

 

Stiles looked up at her. “Why don’t you just beat the crap out of him, anyway? You took Tae Kwon Do and now you’re kickboxing. Just kick him in his stupid face.”

 

She sighed and picked at a hole in her jeans. “He’s got a higher degree black belt than I do,” she mumbled, frowning. “I mentioned that I had a first degree black belt and he mentioned that he had a third degree one. And the class we shared was kickboxing.”

 

Scott and Stiles frowned. “Oh.”

  
“You should leave it up to the police anyway!” Ivan called from the kitchen. “Less chance of you getting hurt and it would up the charges against him if you could prove you’d been trying to avoid him.”

 

Addie turned and smiled at him shyly, then flopped further onto the couch, leaning her chin over Scott’s shoulder. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore; it was embarrassing. “What are you guys working on?”

 

“Algebra,” he mumbled, scowling.

 

“Also biology and a book report,” Stiles added, motioning to his impressive mess that made perfect sense to him and absolutely no sense to anyone else.

 

Scott rolled his eyes and gave her a look like ‘he’s putting me to shame on purpose.’ “Yeah, those too.”

 

“Budge over and I’ll help you.” She slapped his arm gently, sliding onto the floor. “And we’ll catch up to Stiles. You’ll be valedictorian instead of him.”

 

“Ugh,” Scott said, because he had no delusions like she did.

 

Stiles snorted but didn’t say anything. It had taken him months to figure out how to get his homework finished without wanting to tear his hair out, and he knew he kind of made Scott feel stupid sometimes because of the way he did it, making him look like he was more productive. In reality, it took him just as long to do his homework as it took Scott; he just did all of it in bits and pieces instead of doing one assignment at a time. Scott _knew_ that, too. He just got discouraged sometimes.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Addie didn’t mention it much, probably because she was older and thought they didn’t need to know, but as the days passed, she became more and more scared. She checked over her shoulder when they were walking, checked her rearview mirror when she was driving, and checked out the window when they were at home.

 

Finally, the boys couldn’t take it anymore. They couldn’t do much, but they could try to make her feel better.

 

Scott pressed a bottle into her hand. “This is pepper spray. If he comes after you, aim for his stupid ugly face.”

 

Addie’s brows furrowed together in confusion and just a little concern. “Where did you get pepper spray?”

 

“Mom has tons of these.” Scott shrugged. “They have safety seminars at the hospital every few months and they give them out to the nurses like candy.”

 

“I… see. Thanks, Scott,” she said, and made a mental note to call Melissa and ask if it was okay. She smiled a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

 

Stiles took the pepper spray from her and set it on the table, instead grabbing her keys and putting them between her fingers. “If you’re walking to your car or to your house, hold your keys like this. If you hit him with your fist, you’re gonna scratch up his face.”

 

Addie frowned, but nodded; it made sense. “Okay.”

 

“And lots of crimes happen in stairwells, so always take the elevators when you can. Besides, stairwells have blind spots with their cameras. Elevator cameras tape the whole area,” he added, talking a little slower when she only blinked at him. “That way, if he attacks you, you’ll have video evidence.”

 

“I’m off to work, boys,” Ivan said, coming down the stairs and waving. He paused when he saw Addie standing with her keys between her fingers and the pepper spray on the table. “…Hi, Addie.”

 

Addie sighed, because she got that look from people a lot when she was hanging out with Stiles and Scott. “Hi, Mr. Stilinski.”

 

He glanced between the keys and the pepper spray a few more times before nodding and moving toward the door again. “If you’re ever stuck in a trunk, punch out the brake light and wave your arm through the hole. The driver can’t see it, but everyone else can.”

 

She threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. This was her life, apparently.

 

“Addie, how come you don’t tell your grandparents about him?” Scott asked, and she flinched a little at the thought.

 

She sat down on the couch and covered her face, then sighed again and looked up at them. “I don’t want them to make a big deal about it. They’d give me a curfew again, start driving me everywhere, and—They’d. They’d just be so _disappointed_ in me.” She turned and buried her face in one of the throw pillows. “Or Grandpa would shoot him if he drove by again and go to jail for murder. He’s too old to survive prison.”

 

“Please, even the worst criminals would quake in fear,” Stiles scoffed. “Let’s be honest, here. And his missing legs would give him so much cred, don’t even front with me.”

 

Scott grinned. “Yeah, just one war story and those guys would fall to their knees and bow for him.”

 

Addie sniffed, smiling a little. “Maybe. But _oh,_ could you imagine what Grandma would do?”

 

“I don’t what she’d do, but she’d become Queen of the Prison if she got caught,” Scott said solemnly.

 

“ _If_ she got caught,” Stiles added darkly.

 

Addie laughed because it was entirely true.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Addie flew out her front door with her purse so fast that she missed all of the front steps and hit the ground running. “Sorry guys pizza and bowling when I get back to make up for it?!”

 

Mrs. Anderson rushed out after her but took her time with the front steps. “We’ll pick up the good pizzas from Paddington’s and then you can go bowling!”

 

Stiles and Scott turned to watch them get into the car and drive away quickly, blinking. “Uh.”

 

Jim smiled a little. “Gloria forgot her eye appointment. You can hang out with me until they get back if you want, though.”

 

“Will you tell us the story of how you lost your legs again?” Stiles asked.

 

He made a noise caught between a groan and a laugh. “What is it with you and gruesome stories, Stiles?”

 

Stiles merely beamed at him. Scott grabbed his shoulder and shoved him into the rhododendron.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Ivan pulled his cruiser up onto the Anderson’s driveway with a screech, lights flashing. He jumped out of the car and pointed at the boys. “Get in the car!”

 

“What’s going on?” Stiles asked as they ran past him.

 

Scott frowned in concern. “Is it my mom?”

 

Ivan ran up the steps and grabbed Jim’s wheelchair, carrying him back down the steps instead of pushing him over to the wheelchair ramp. “Addie and Gloria were in a car crash, Jim.”

 

Jim took a sharp breath, eyes widening, before he pulled the passenger side door open and pulled himself into the seat. Ivan folded the chair up and stuck it in the back seat with the boys. “Hold this, guys, and make sure you put your seatbelts on.”

 

Stiles and Scott exchanged wide-eyed looks as Ivan got back into the driver’s seat and pealed out of the driveway.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Addie was driving, because Mrs. Anderson’s eyes were dilated. They’d been going through an intersection when an SUV ran a red light and plowed into the passenger side. It had pushed them into oncoming traffic and a car clipped the front driver’s side.

 

Ted had been driving the SUV.

 

They found Addie sitting in a waiting room, left arm splinted and in a sling, a bandage on her head, nose plastered. Her left leg had a thick cast from her toes to her knee, and the bruise from her seatbelt was visible across her chest above the hem of her shirt. Melissa was squatting in front of her, asking questions, but Addie looked too dazed to answer.

 

With a surge of adrenaline, Jim wheeled himself over to her himself, reaching out for her hand. “Madeline!”

 

Addie looked up at him, eyes seeming to clear, before they filled with tears and her lower lip quivered. “Grabpa, I’mb sorry.”

 

His shaking hands cupped her cheeks, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and ghosting over the edge of the tape across her nose. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. Accidents happen.”

 

She sobbed. “But it wasn’t an accident he hit us on burbose and I told him I always ride in the bassenger seat because Grabma doesn’t like it when I drive so he was aibing for me!” She leaned forward to bury her face in his bony shoulder, bonked her nose, and leaned back with a wounded bellow. “AND I BROKE BY NOZE SO I SOUMB LIKE A LOSER!”

 

Jim brushed her hair out of her eyes and frowned. “Why is it your fault that someone else tried to kill you?”

 

She blinked at him, a few more tears rolling down her cheeks. “…I… I should have told you about him.”

 

“He would have found a way to hurt you no matter what I did,” he told her firmly. “I am an old man, Madeline. I can’t protect you like I could have if I was younger. He’s clearly a predator, so he would have found a way, and it’s not your fault.”

 

Addie snuffled and lifted her good hand to wipe at her cheeks. “But now Grabma’s in surgery because it was subbosed to be _be._ ”

 

“Madeline Bea Wilson,” Jim hissed, scowling. “If you think it would have been better to have been in the passenger seat, you are clearly not giving your grandmother enough credit. She has lived through the death of old friends, a son-in-law that she adored, and Claudia Stilinski. I don’t think she could have survived the loss of _you._ ”

 

“But Grabma could _die_ ,” she wailed, sobbing again.

 

“Jim, it’s… it’s not looking good,” Melissa admitted, frowning. “She was asking for you, and a priest. I… I had to come out here, because I wasn’t any use in the operating room. I can stay with her, if you want to go.”

 

Jim frowned and stroked Addie’s cheek. “You don’t want to come, Addie?”

 

“Grabma already said goo’bye a’d also I should cadcel de order for her dew glasses,” Addie told him petulantly.

 

Jim laughed, more out of shock than anything else. “Of course she did.”

 

Addie rolled her eyes, whimpered because it hurt, then let out a loud groan. “Grabpa, go see Grabma. The boys will keep be cobany.”

 

Stiles reached out for her good hand and sat down next to her. Scott took the seat on her other side and carefully laid his head on her shoulder, letting her shift his head to a less bruised spot. Ivan pulled Melissa aside to go get some coffee.

 

If Addie waited until all the adults were gone or distracted to shed some tears, Stiles and Scott promised each other with just a glance not to mention it.

 

.-.-.-.

 

They had to take Ted’s trial out of town because he wouldn’t have gotten a fair trial in Beacon Hills. Gloria Anderson had been around forever and everyone respected her even if they were afraid of her—and killing her on purpose while trying to kill her _granddaughter,_ well. Ivan may not have been as gentle arresting him as he might have been for an innocent accident victim.

 

Addie’s family came from Florida for the trial, and the Stilinskis and McCalls were unnerved to find that Addie wasn’t the only one that had inherited Mrs. Anderson’s steely stare. Not only did her mother turn that piercing gaze on the murderer, but so did her three other children. They didn’t talk to Addie when they saw her, but they nodded to each other. When Ted pled guilty, he muttered that he’d only wished he’d gotten Addie, too. Addie’s mother gave him a look so scathing that he actually cringed away from her. He hung himself with the sheets from his prison bed a few days later.

 

Addie and Jim spent a lot of time over at the Stilinski house. Stiles and Scott understood. It was weird walking home and not waving to Mrs. Anderson on the porch. Even when Grandpa Jim stayed inside because the cold bothered him, Mrs. Anderson was always on the porch to make sure they made it home, a silent sentinel that they didn’t even notice until she was gone.

 

The funeral was nice. Mrs. Anderson would have loved it if it hadn’t been hers. Stiles and Scott got the feeling that she was watching somewhere, enjoying it anyway. She seemed like the kind of person who would stay to keep an eye on things even after she died. She probably didn’t trust them to carry on without her.

 

.-.-.-.

 

Stiles and Scott thought it was weird that Addie never seemed to cry until they came over with a casserole from Scott’s mom and found her sobbing in the middle of the living room, all alone.

 

Scott only barely remembered to set the casserole dish aside before he dove onto the floor beside her and cuddled up against her side. “Addie, you don’t have to cry alone!”

 

Stiles scooted in on her other side. “We’re here, okay?”

 

“Grandma’s gone and it’s all my fault!” she wailed, lifting a hand to scrub at her eyes.

 

Stiles looked at Scott over her head and nodded, then dragged the old, scratchy wool blanket from the back of the couch. Scott took one end they muscled her into a sloppy burrito. They probably only managed to do it because she was confused and exhausted, but they counted it as a win after all the times she’d wrapped them in the itchy blanket and run away cackling, leaving them to wriggle out of it themselves.

 

She looked stunned for all of a minute before letting out a snarl and flailing around, trapped in felted wool. “What the _actual hell—_ ”

 

“Burrito of comfort!” Scott exclaimed, piling on top of her. “I am comfort guacamole!”

 

Stiles laid over him. “And I am comfort salsa!”

 

“You two are literally the weirdest creatures I have ever met,” she sniffled, but giggled a little, if a touch a hysterically. “Get off of me I can’t breathe!”

 

Stiles and Scott perked up, then glanced at each other slyly. “You’re trapped in the burrito.”

 

“Oh my gosh _noooooo_!” she shrieked, before letting out peals of laughter as they tickled her through the fabric. She kicked frantically, wiggled across the floor, and rolled until she hit the coffee table, where she finally stopped and cringed. “Ow my head!”

 

“Are you okay?” Scott asked quickly, cradling her head away from the table leg.

 

Addie grumbled and wriggled around a little longer before laying her head in his lap and closing her eyes. “Yeah. It’s still a little tender where I cut my head in the crash.”

 

Scott and Stiles both leaned forward to look at the puckered scar that was only just covered by her hair. It was raised and pink, still looking a little painful. Stiles traced it lightly with his finger, and she hissed, but it was mostly a warning; it didn’t hurt when he touched it that softly. They were pretty sure it would fade a little with age, but it was still pretty wicked-looking.

 

“You know, it wasn’t your fault,” Stiles told her after a few minutes. “That guy was psychotic, Addie. You couldn’t know he’d escalate.”

 

“Also, that was probably the best way for your grandma to die,” Scott added, and when they both looked at him in outrage, he shrugged. “The only other way I can imagine her dying is in a fiery spray of bullets from Death himself.”

 

Stiles and Addie tilted their heads, then conceded. “If he’d had the balls to shoot her in the first place,” Stiles agreed. “I’m kind of convinced that Mrs. Anderson would have been immortal.”

 

Addie hummed. “Maybe that would make _me_ immortal.”

 

“But how could you live without us? We’re not immortal,” Scott asked, raising his eyebrows.

 

She gave him a flat look. “ _Quietly._ ”

 

Scott gasped. “ _Mean!_ ”

 

Stiles crawled on top of her, poking her cheek gently. “But your grandma _wasn’t_ immortal.”

 

Addie looked up at him, then frowned and turned her gaze away. “No, she wasn’t.”

 

“It’s not your fault she died, you know,” he continued, laying his head on her chest. “I think if you’d been the one in the passenger seat, Mrs. Anderson would have died of heartbreak, Addie. She loved you so much, she gave up retirement in _Florida._ She let you tour theme parks and zoos on your own while she helped your mom so you didn’t have to see her. She didn’t push about your school even though you got into Columbia. She loved you so much, I think she would be lost without you.”

 

Addie clenched her jaw, swallowed, then let out a tiny mewl as tears ran down her cheeks again. “I don’t know what to do without her.”

 

“We could go run screaming through the woods,” Scott suggested, stretching out beside her.

 

She shrugged one of her shoulders, making Stiles’s head rise and fall with it. “I don’t feel like driving. Can we just lie here and be together?”

 

The way she said it made it sound like she was asking for a million in gold bullion.

 

Stiles and Scott didn’t even hesitate when they answered, “Of course.”

 

She smiled through her tears and it was so heartbreaking that Stiles and Scott piled on top of her again, screaming ‘comfort guacamole!’ and ‘comfort salsa!’

 

Addie giggled, sniffled, and finally tugged one of her arms out to awkwardly wrap around them.

 

.-.-.-.

 

When Melissa came over to see what was taking the boys so long, she cooed when she found the trio asleep on the floor. Scott was snoring, Addie’s glasses were askew, and Stiles was drooling into the blanket. It really wasn’t attractive to any of them, but they were sleeping, so that immediately gave them adorable points.

 

She was just trying to figure out the camera on her phone (ugh, these new phones could only do ‘anything’ if you knew how to use them) when she heard a car pull up in the driveway. She rushed back out to shush them, because she still wanted a picture.

 

“If you two speak above a whisper for the next two minutes so help me I will throw you in front of a bus!” she hissed, glaring at them.

 

Ivan stared, Jim’s wheelchair still in hand. Jim blinked at her. “…Okay,” he whispered, shrugging, and turned to slip into the wheelchair. He kicked Ivan with his stump. “Ivan, put the chair down. I’m not getting any younger.”

 

“What’s—” Ivan began, flinched under Melissa’s glare, and started again, more quietly. “What’s going on?”

 

“How do I work this stupid phone? Where’s my camera? I have one, Julie took a picture of a girl with one of the therapy dogs with it the other day.”

 

Ivan pointed to the button on the side of her phone that had the imprint of a camera on it. She huffed in embarrassment and flounced back into the house.

 

“…I will _never_ understand women,” Ivan sighed, shutting the door to the cruiser and turning to wheel Jim up the ramp the Andersons had had built when they’d bought the house.

 

Jim chuckled. “I was beginning to understand Gloria, I thought, until I went to see her and she told me that she didn’t mind not having a Catholic ceremony if it made me uncomfortable.” When Ivan frowned in confusion, he explained, “I’m not really religious; the war kind of took it out of me. But I didn’t mind going to church with Gloria on Sundays. She said she loved me for it. I don’t think she understood that I would have jumped at being baptized if she’d just asked me. I would have done anything for that woman.”

 

Ivan smiled a little. “You’re taking her death much better than I took Claudia’s.”

 

“I have no doubt that Gloria is still around,” Jim told him firmly. “I don’t think she could be comfortable in heaven until she saw that we were alright. And our ideas of ‘alright’ are _very_ different.” He shrugged, smiling again. “Besides, I knew there was a chance of Gloria dying before me. She’s six years older than me.”

 

“I wouldn’t have believed you if you’d sworn on a stack of bibles before the crash and I saw her age on the reports,” Ivan stated, finally pushing him into the house. He made a strangled noise when he saw why Melissa has rushed out to shush them. “ _Oh._ ”

 

Jim stared. “My God, they’ve fallen asleep on the most uncomfortable blanket in the house.”

 

Melissa snorted and covered her mouth. “Why do you have it if it’s so uncomfortable?”

 

“My grandmother made it,” the old man said, frowning. “After my father accidentally felted it, we decided it would just be good decoration, or a blanket to go over a different blanket to keep the heat in.” He sighed and shook his head. “I will never understand young people these days.”

 

“Young people are easy,” Ivan argued. “It’s _our_ kids that are weird.”

 

Melissa nodded and reached over to poke Stiles’s hip. He snuffled and rolled over, landing on top of Scott. Instead of waking up, they cuddled together and snuggled over Addie’s stomach.

 

“This is just ridiculous,” she said fondly, then turned and grabbed the casserole that had been abandoned by the door. “Who wants ham and cheese casserole? Maybe the smell will wake them up.”

 

“I could eat,” the men agreed, following her into the kitchen.

 

When Stiles, Scott, and Addie wandered in, rubbing their eyes and yawning, the adults just smiled and cut them some pieces of casserole. There was a scab where Mrs. Anderson should have been, where _Claudia_ should have been, but it seemed like it was all starting to finally heal, bit by bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Gloria Anderson is terrifying even in death. I wouldn't be surprised if her ghost is the reason Ted No Last Name killed himself.


End file.
